


Domestic Times

by alexdamien



Category: Dissidia Duodecim: Final Fantasy, Dissidia: Final Fantasy
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:30:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexdamien/pseuds/alexdamien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of fluffly domestic drabbles of the cast sharing a house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Curtains

They were bloody, dirty and tired when they arrived to the empty house. Squall looked at the barren white walls of what might be considered the living room.

“Such a nice present.” he said, then turned to the warrior. “Shall we kneel to praise the goddess?”

Light’s hand itched to slap the gunblader’s face, but as soon as he realized that, he felt disgusted at himself.

“Let’s just...” he started, but his voice broke.

“Everybody, find a room and go to sleep in the floor,” said Lightning, taking control of the situation. The warrior clenched his fists, trying to contain the blind anger that burned in his chest. At Cosmos. At the war. At everything.

That night, he slept alone in the living room, looking at the moon rising. There was day and night now thanks to the goddess. He should be happy. They had a safe place to sleep. He should be grateful.

_I hate you. I hate this. I hate. Hate. Hate..._

He fell asleep covered in moonlight, and woke up several times during the night. The moon seemed to be watching him. A great white eye looking directly at him. Unblinking.

That morning, he stripped of his armor, and put up curtains. Thick white curtains that would block out the moon.

He also painted the walls in beige. And fixed the kitchen, leaving it ready for proper use. And planted some trees...

That night, he also slept on the floor of the living room, despite Kain waking up in the middle of the night and telling him that there was space for him in his and Cecil’s room. He made up some lame excuse about having to wake up early and not wanting to wake up anyone, and Kain left him alone with a reprehending huff.

The next morning he put up curtains in all windows. Then fixed the garden. And repainted the front entrance.

It all took his mind off the bubbling emotions inside him, and let him keep hold of a small semblance of control over everything.

He loved those curtains.


	2. Morning

Bartz skipped to the kitchen while Light looked intently out the window.

“Hey Light! What’s up?” he asked, taking great care to stand close to him.

“I’m thinking about transplanting the apple tree to the left. I don’t like it so close to the window. It cuts off too much light.”

“Uh, sounds nice. Want me to help you move it?

Light sighed, glaring at the offending tree.

“Later. I still have to wash the living room curtains.” the warrior walked backwards and leaned against the kitchen table. “That was a nice one.”

“Tree?”

“No.”

He twisted back, and faster than Bartz could see, caught hold of something yellow.

“That was a nice try.” he said, pulling Zidane up. The thief had a brightly colored box in his hands. “But I will repeat myself, seeing how you seem to not have quite grasped the seriousness of my orders: One bow of cereal a day, per person. Understood?”

Bartz and Zidane nodded with equally terrified expressions in their faces.

The warrior let Zidane’s tail go, and both youths ran out of the kitchen as fast as they could.

Cecil entered the kitchen, and frowned at the slight smirk on the warrior’s lips.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on them.”

The hint of emotion vanished immediately, leaving only a perfectly cold, neutral expression in the warrior’s face. Cecil wished he had not spoken at all.

“Rules must be enforced in this house.” he said, and left the kitchen, leaving an unfinished cup of tea on the table.


	3. Tea

It was a constant, cruel battle that the Warrior of Light had to endure every single morning.

“Your attitude is reprehensible!” growled Kain, holding on to the tiny bag of tea. Cecil bared his teeth while holding on to the bag too. Light idly noticed that Kain’s pajama pants had slipped just a little down his hips.

He reminded himself that he had to remain neutral in this war.

“I bought it, I get to drink it!”

“It should be shared between all of us!”

“There is not enough to share. Besides, your taste in tea is...well, it could be stronger.”

“Excuse me? I can’t hear you over ALL THAT LIPSTICK.”

“And I can’t hear you over all that hairspray!”

Firion entered the kitchen yawning.

“Guys, guys, please shout outside. You’re waking up everyone,” he said in a calming voice. He pushed both warriors apart. “Set your differences outside and come back in when you’re done, alright?”

Cecil and Kain grumbled, but stepped outside. Once they were out, Firion locked the door. He had the tea bag in his hand.

“I can’t tell if this was a selfish trick, or a witty form of conflict resolution,” wondered the warrior aloud, still holding his coffee mug.Firion smiled and took the kettle from the stove.

“If there’s nothing to fight for, they can’t argue between themselves. I think I’m preserving peace in the house.”

Light nodded with a smirk.


	4. Lovely

“Well, I told you that we should have opened the windows first,” said Bartz, and Squall gritted his teeth because yes, the mime had said that it wouldn’t be safe to start a fire like that. Looking back, there were many things he should have thought about better; he realized as he crawled out from under the charred remnants of the kitchen table.

Zidane came out from somewhere near the refrigerator, where he had jumped the second he realized lighting a match near the stove wouldn’t be a very good idea.

Squall searched in his pockets.

“…Guys…,” he started, looking at Bartz and Zidane, as they stood in front of the smoking stove. “I love you.”

Both his friends visibly flinched.

“Oh, no…,” whined Zidane.

 "I love you both."

“Please don’t hurt us,” said Bartz.

“I really do,” continued Squall. He took their hands into his. “And I promise to make it up to you,” he finished, leaving the box of matches in their hands.

The warrior came running into the kitchen, still wearing those hideous overalls that he used for gardening. “What was that explosion?!” he shouted.

“I can’t believe you just blew up the stove! What were you thinking?!” shouted Squall.

He would always tell himself that they had better possibilities of surviving the warrior’s rage than him. Besides, he would never live down the humiliation of having Cloud point out that he had blown up the stove trying to cook dinner.


	5. Cooking Dinner

It was Squall’s turn to cook. Normally he would just complain about being too busy and let the warrior take care of it, but Lightning gave him such a glare when she announced it was his turn, he felt goosebumps whenever he thought about it.

So, no getting out of this one, it seemed.

And, as usual, Bartz and Zidane were nowhere to be seen. After thinking about it, Squall was thankful for their absence. They would just end up blowing up the stove again, and he didn’t need the two Lights of the house riding his ass about it again.

He dwelled on the thought for a moment, blushed, and shook his head.

Fridge, he needed to check the fridge.

There was nothing that would feed the entire team in the fridge. He found some soup leftovers, and some spicy chicken leftovers, but nothing he could use to make a meal for everyone.

“Do you need any help with dinner?” asked Light from the kitchen door. He carried a load of laundry, and behind him Squall could see Lightning pass by, glaring pointedly at him.

“...It’s alright.”


End file.
